


The Angel and the Demon

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Series: Angel and Demon [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Demon Dean Winchester, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Masturbation, NSFW, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Smut, Supernatural smut, angel trying to save demon!dean, reader is an angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:23:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4268355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine being an angel and Demon!Dean showing you all the pleasures of sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Angel and the Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Bases on an imagine originally posted on Dirty Supernatural Imagines on tumblr. Part of an eight part series.

Angels and Demons. Demons and Angels. Complicated interactions. An interaction you never thought you’d be having. But here you were, waiting on a Knight of Hell.

You knew about Dean, about everything that had happened to him. You knew that he’d taken the Mark from Cain, knew that he had the First Blade, and you knew that his death at the hands of Metatron had turned him into a demon, specifically a Knight of Hell. There wasn’t an angel alive who didn’t know about Dean Winchester, the hunter turned demon.

You had been watching Dean for years; you couldn’t help yourself, you found him fascinating. The man who had gone to Hell, survived Purgatory, died more times than even you could count, the man who had taken on the Mark of Cain. His selfless nature, his devotion to his brother, his loyalty to the people he cared about, all of that had pulled you to him like metal to a magnet. All of that had made you fall in love with him.

After Metatron tricked Castiel and stole his grace, slamming closed the gates of Heaven, your first instinct had been to go to Dean, to protect him. But Metatron had locked you in Heaven’s prison, forcing you to sit back and watch as the Mark slowly ate away at Dean and destroyed the man you'd come to care for so deeply. You wished you could have been there; you would have protected him, taken care of him; you never would have let him do the things he had done. Never.

Once Heaven reopened and you were free, you had gone to find Dean, but it was too late. Metatron had killed him and then, the Mark had turned him. You’d retreated, watching from afar, unable to help but unwilling to leave him, you were too far gone, too much in love with the doomed hunter. For weeks you’d waited, hoping, praying to your absent father that it was just a nightmare that would end.

Once you realized it wasn’t going to end, that Dean was a demon, you’d tried to think of something you could do, some way you could get Dean back to the man he had once been.An idea took hold, just a thought at first, a fleeting thought that came over you as you sat in a bar watching Dean pick up yet another woman. But that thought grew as you followed Dean from town to town, woman to woman. What if you could use your grace to save him?

Of course, you couldn’t just walk up to him and say, “Hey, I’m an angel, I’m going to use my grace to save you.” Demons didn’t usually go for that kind of thing. But you thought there might be a better way to get to Dean. If anyone - anything - could save him, it was you.

The plan came together quickly, easily. All you had to do was put yourself in front of Dean, flirt a little, come on to him a little and just like that, he was expressing interest, asking you to dance, buying you a drink. It hadn’t taken long before he had agreed to meet you at your motel and you’d slid your key across the table to him.

Which was how you found yourself sitting in a cheap motel room, waiting to seduce a demon. You were nervous, extremely nervous, but then again you hadn’t had much interaction with demons before; it wasn’t in your job description. Not to mention, this demon had once been someone you’d cared very deeply about, someone you’d loved. You were still having a difficult time reconciling the Dean you had grown to love over the years with the heartless, uncaring demon he had become. You knew that somewhere under all of that was the man you loved and you were determined to get him back. Maybe that was why your hands wouldn’t stop shaking and you were feeling flushed as the fear of what you were about to do rippled through you. You stepped into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on your face, trying to calm yourself.

When you stepped from the bathroom, Dean was sitting in a chair at the tiny table in the kitchenette. Actually, he wasn’t sitting in it, so much as he was sprawled over it, his legs spread wide, one arm leaning on the table, tapping a small silver lighter against the tabletop repeatedly, spinning it several times between his fingers before tapping it on the table again. He smiled lazily at you but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hello, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice so cold it sent chills dancing down your spine as it washed over you.

“Dean,” you breathed. “You’re here.”

“I am,” he chuckled. “And so are you. Which I didn’t expect, to be honest with you. I figured you’d bail. It’s not often that an angel invites a demon back to her motel for sex.”

“What?” you asked, feigning surprise.

“Save it,” Dean interrupted. “I know what you are, who you are. What I don’t understand is what you could possibly want with me?” He dropped the lighter to the table with a loud clunking sound before pushing himself to his feet. He walked across the room until he was standing in front of you.

“I want to help you,” you whispered.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m beyond help,” he chuckled. His hand came up and you flinched, fearful of what he would do.

He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already.” He stroked a finger down your cheek, took your chin in his hand, tilting your head back so he could stare into your eyes. He leaned over you, smiling.

Your heart jumped in your chest and you couldn’t stop yourself from taking a step back, the hard edge of the doorjamb jabbing into the space between your shoulder blades.

“But I think I can help you,” he murmured. Dean moved closer, so close you could feel his breath blowing over you and smell the aftershave he wore to cover the scent of sulfur on his skin. His hand slid down your neck and around your throat, his thumb and forefinger resting just under your ears as he pushed your head back against the wall, forcing you to look at him.

“I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to touch an angel, to make an angel moan, to make an angel beg for me,” he growled. “I want to know what it feels like to have your grace wrap itself around me when I’m buried inside you, when I’m fucking you.”

Dean’s eyes slid to black as the words flowed from him and you wanted to protest, to argue, to push him away and refuse him, but when you opened your mouth to say all of that, to deny him what he wanted, only a single word would form.

Yes.

Dean pressed his lips to yours, a possessive kiss, a kiss that spoke volumes about what he was planning to do to you. Your body flooded with heat and an ache started in the pit of your stomach, awakening something inside you that had previously lain dormant. His body was flush against yours, all hard, tight muscle and all you could think about was how desperately you wanted to feel his skin against your skin, hot and sweat slicked. You closed your eyes and surrendered yourself to him.

You felt him move, shifting enough that he could take both of your hands in one of his. He bit at your lower lip until you opened your mouth, his tongue sliding past your lips and over your teeth, kissing you. He pulled your hands above your head and held them in place. You heard him take a deep breath, his chest rising and falling where it was pressed against yours, the hard line of his hipbones holding you against the wall.

"These clothes need to go," he ordered. He took hold of your shirt collar and with one hard yank, he tore it down the front. Buttons flew around the room, the torn fabric hitting the floor, followed immediately by your skirt, then your bra and panties, all victims of Dean's apparent dislike of clothing.

“There are so many things I can show you,” Dean growled, his hands roaming over your now naked body. “So many things I can do to you.”

You moaned, your skin prickling with goosebumps of anticipation despite the heat flooding your body. Dean picked you up, his strong hands under your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging it as you pulled his lips back to yours. He carried you across the room and dropped you unceremoniously to the bed.

You didn't even have a chance to catch your breath before Dean's lips were sliding down your stomach, his teeth sinking into your skin, his tongue lapping at the wounds he left behind. His fingers hungrily explored you, easily sliding into your pussy, already wet and ready for him, one, then two fingers pumping wildly in and out of you, stretching you open.

You groaned desperately when his mouth covered you, his tongue lapping repeatedly at your swollen clit, his fingers still moving inside you. His pinky rubbed gently against your ass as he fucked you with his mouth, the slick from your juices easing his finger’s entrance into you, just the tip sliding carefully inside.

Your hips bucked unashamedly, allowing three of Dean's fingers to slide easily into you, filling you completely, sinfully, perfectly. He moved them slowly, slipping them in and out while sucking your clit into his mouth, his tongue arching upward against your sweet spot. You groaned, your thighs squeezing together on either side of his head as your grip on Dean’s hair tightened, holding him in place so you could ride out the orgasm he was giving you, begging him not to stop as the pleasure blasted through you.

You groaned in protest when he released you, drawing a laugh from the black-eyed demon. He sat up between your legs, an evil smirk on his face. He opened his jeans and pulled his thick, hard cock free, stroking it repeatedly, his hand still wet from its time between your legs.

You pushed yourself up, balanced on your elbows, watching. Dean’s eyes slipped closed and his head fell back as he stroked himself. He looked beautiful, his mouth slightly open, faint gasps of pleasure falling from his lips, his cheeks flushed pink, his throat muscles shifting as he groaned, the veins in his forearms standing out as he tensed, squeezing and pulling, squeezing and pulling.

Your heart was in your throat and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and then instinct took over and you suddenly found yourself shoving him over, yanking his pants down around his ankles and then Dean was in your mouth, the salty taste of his pre-come mixed with what could only be the taste of you sliding over your tongue. You took hold of him, mimicking what he’d been doing with his own hands as you slid him into the wet heat of your mouth. His hips rose off the bed, pushing himself into your mouth, his hand tangled in your hair, holding you in place.

“Fuck, angel, that’s perfect,” he moaned as you slid him in and out of your mouth, taking as much of him in as possible, until he was repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. Your naked breasts brushed against his legs, the hairs on his legs tickling your nipples, bringing them to attention. You swallowed around him, pulling him further into your mouth until your eyes were watering and you were nearly gagging, but it wasn’t enough, you needed more, wanted more. A switch had been flipped inside you and all you could think about was Dean, what you could do to him, how you could get him to make that sound that was between a groan and a growl that faded into a nearly breathless gasp, what you needed to do to make him take you, to fuck you, to claim you as his.

Because you were his, all of you, angel or not. It didn’t matter if he was human or demon, good or bad, you belonged to him, body and soul. You always had.

Dean let loose with a loud groan, his hips rising off the bed as you pulled him into your mouth one final time, opening your throat to take him all, your nose buried in the soft hair surrounding him, the scent of him overwhelming you. His cock twitched, pulsing as he came, his body tensing beneath your hands, the blankets twisted between his fingers. Greedily, you sucked him off, finishing what you’d started, until his cock slowly softened under your touch.

You released him, falling to the bed beside him, your head resting against his hip. He gently brushed his fingers through your hair, pulling it away from your face. The tender touch lasted just a fleeting second before Dean was pushing himself off of the bed and stripping off his clothes. He grabbed your ankle and pulled you across the bed, then he pulled you to your knees and turned you around. He climbed on the bed behind you, pulling you tight against his naked chest. He tilted your head to the side, dragging his lips down your neck, sucking a dark mark into the spot where your shoulder met your neck.

“You’re mine,” he snarled.

You nodded, pushing yourself back into his already hardening cock, your body completely under his control. Dean slid one hand down your stomach and between your legs, while he plucked at the hard pebble of your nipple with the other, roughly pinching it between his calloused fingers. He wasted no time with teasing or being gentle, instead he shoved two fingers inside you, hard, pulling them forward, pressing against the tight bundle of nerves, chuckling when you let out a startled squeak.

His fingers pumped in and out of you, his thumb pressed against your clit, already pushing you toward another orgasm. He used his hips to push you forward at the same time that his hand pushed up into you and then you were coming so hard you could have sworn you actually saw stars, your body betraying you as you felt your grace start to explode outward. You pulled it back, barely, desperate to hold on just a bit longer, just long enough to get him inside of you, to wrap yourself around him and then you could let go, use your grace to bring him back from the wasteland of evil he’d taken residence in.

You could feel his hard shaft brushing against your back, trapped between your bodies. You reached behind yourself and grabbed him, a low hiss coming from him when your nails scraped over the sensitive head. You jerked him off as the second orgasm engulfed you and you fought to concentrate, willing yourself to keep it together.

You fell forward, catching yourself on your elbows, Dean’s hand in the middle of your back, his fingers leaving your pussy only to replaced immediately with his cock. He thrust into you, filling you completely, burying himself so deep inside you that you could feel his pelvic bone pressing against you as he moved his hips in tight, controlled thrusts. Both of his hands were on your hips, holding you in place as he slammed into you over and over.

You felt the now familiar tightening in your gut and you knew you were close, right on the cusp of another orgasm. You rested your head against your forearm and let out a long sighing breath that rapidly turned into a low keening sound as you raced toward climax. You squeezed your eyes closed and let go, picturing your grace flowing from you and into Dean, healing him, curing him, making him good again. You bit your arm as the orgasm hit, stronger and harder than either of the previous two, the walls of your pussy clenching around Dean’s cock, holding him inside you as you both came.

Dean collapsed on top of you with a loud grunt, pushing you into the bed. You waited, silently praying that the man now lying sprawled across your back was no longer a demon. Hope bloomed in your heart when you felt his soft lips placing gentle kisses along your spine, between your shoulder blades, the scruff of his chin scratching you as he moved over your shoulders, up your neck to your ear. He nibbled lightly at the lobe, just barely catching it between his teeth, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers danced lightly up and down your spine, caressing you.

You held back a contented sigh. It worked, it had to have worked.

“Nice try, angel,” Dean whispered in your ear. “But I don’t want to be cured. I like the disease.”

He fingers trailed down your back as he pushed himself off of the bed. You flipped to your back and watched as he pulled his clothes back on. Once he was dressed, he leaned over you, a knee by your hip, his hand by your head, a smirk on his face. He pressed a kiss to your lips.

“Give me a call if you want to try again,” he murmured. “I might have more stuff I could teach you.” He kissed you one more time, then he was gone, the door slamming loudly behind him.  

You pressed two fingers to your tingling lips and closed your eyes. All you could see against your eyelids was Dean’s face as he touched himself, all you could hear was the sounds he’d made as he came. You gasped, tears welling in your eyes, a feeling of horror breaking over you, making you nearly distraught with the knowledge that you had failed.

“Damn it,” you groaned.


End file.
